


Lure me back into your arms

by Webtrinsic



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Abusive Parents, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ben has body image issues, Ben has self-esteem issues, Beverly didn't move, Coming Out, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dead Georgie Denbrough, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie has had depressive episodes before, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotionally Repressed, Fainting, Fist Fights, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, Getting Together, Hallucinations, Happy Ending, I'm so sorry Richie and Eddie, Kidnapping, Knives, M/M, Minor Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Minor Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Not an accurate depiction of Stockholm Syndrome, Pastel Eddie Kaspbrak, Patrick Hockstetter is His Own Warning, Protective Losers Club (IT), Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Stan is legit the smartest and most depressed loser, Stockholm Syndrome, Talks of Sexuality, Threats of Violence, Triggers, i fuck them all up, this fic talks about a lot of serious shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:06:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21775699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Webtrinsic/pseuds/Webtrinsic
Summary: Eddie's on his way to the clubhouse when Patrick runs him off the road, taking his limp body home where Eddie's crush on Richie is projected onto his captor and hearts are broken. But Richie doesn’t stop looking for him and is determined to set things right.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Patrick Hockstetter/Eddie Kaspbrak
Comments: 20
Kudos: 111





	Lure me back into your arms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cheshirekitten87](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheshirekitten87/gifts).



> Okay first and foremost this is an angsty Fic I had a lot of fun writing, but I must warn you to read the tags carefully before reading in case. 
> 
> again imma disclose I don't endorse this in real life nor is this meant to romanticize stockholm syndrome in any way, this at best is a cautionary tale. but anywho i hope y'all enjoy the angst.
> 
> imma actually be sad as shit if this flops cause i worked really hard on it
> 
> also the title is from the song "the stockholm syndrome' by CLMD and kish

Derry’s roads were cracked and brittle meaning Eddie spent most of his time anxiously scanning the road to make sure his tires didn’t slip and then worriedly looking ahead to watch for cars than actually enjoying the activity.

Eddie didn’t regret his system, it saved him from potholes, scrapes and bruises his friends normally got when they flew over the handlebars getting road rash. What Eddie did regret about his system was it wasn’t often he had to look behind him. 

If he had he’d have noticed Patrick’s trans am in the distance much sooner, it really only came to his attention when the rumble of the engine hit the air and his peripheral caught a flash of blue and Eddie’s legs pumped hard in an attempt to get away.

“Fuck,” he repeated under his breath until a pothole came up under his wheel, the handle bars turning in his hands sending him off the road and off his bike. Eddie’s head echoed, his ears ringing, vision fuzzy only to sharpen the second Patrick’s figure zeroed in on him from above.

The pastel boy prepared to get hit or even kicked, what he wasn’t expecting was one of Patrick’s large hands to wrap around his throat while the other covered his mouth and nose to cut off his breathing.  Whimpering, Eddie’s eyes bulged, tears falling down the sides of his face as the asphalt below burned him through his clothes, the world going dark in a matter of painstakingly long seconds.

Once Eddie fell into the black, Patrick scooped him up, hands gentle in comparison to what he’d done just seconds before. Patrick had expected the boy to be light since his stature and he was right, so right he felt as if he’d picked up a medium sized dog rather than a beautiful hypochondriac.

Depositing him into the passenger side seat, Patrick made sure to buckle him in before rounding the car and slipping inside, revving the engine loudly and turning back onto the road before he followed it home. 

* * *

The losers clad in shower caps dillied around the clubhouse. Ben adding extra nails in every spot that seemingly seemed too empty, the other losers were sure Ben knew what he was doing with his placements but to them it just looked like he was filling in any empty spot.

Slips of light filtered through the makeshift ceilings, shadows of leaves fanning across their faces from where they sat over the slits, the brighter leaves tinting the shadows green. In the cramped space the air remained thick with must and a slight smell of smoke, a courtesy of Beverly’s cigarettes. 

The scent would likely be worse if she didn’t do it beneath the hatch, and if Richie joined in. The other losers would ask Richie why he’d put off his little habit in their safe place, nearly teasing that he was worried about setting the place ablaze, and sometimes they did tease knowing that wasn’t Richie’s fear at all, it was Eddie’s. 

Richie shifted on the hammock, feeling cold without another pair of legs rubbing against his own. The comic in his hand light, story riveting enough to turn his attention away from the cold for the time being, not only that but the ache in his stomach took up most of his attention.

They all were hitting some growth spurts, Bill grew a bit taller, Mike shot up a bit too but his voice dropped rather low. Stan sprouted a little bit more but was a little peeved he was now shorter than some of his friends when he was normally the tallest. Beverly’s body filled in more and she seemed to grow into her forever height, Ben grew and slimmed in the slightest but they all knew he wasn’t quite done yet. 

Richie had the most change, more hair and longer limbs, stretching his skin in the slightest, enriching his appetite and officially making him the tallest of the losers. Eddie had the least change, only gaining an inch on his height and his voice was still soft but definitely deeper. The only other real change to the boy was he’d stopped styling his hair and let it furl up into curls.

“We should order a pizza, I’m starving,” Beverly announced in time for Richie’s stomach to growl in agreement causing the others to giggle while Beverly put her cigarette out and Richie let his comic flop against his chest.

“It’s kinda hard finding a pizza we all agree on,” Mike pointed out from his spot on the swing, his long limbs leaving him cramped in the slightest as he swung more on his legs than in the air itself. The ropes making the ceiling creak yet Ben had assured them countless times it was safe, and had even reinforced the rope and hooks they were suspended from.

“Yeah cause Eddie insists on the healthy shit, and Stan needs it to be kosher,” Richie whined, earning the middle finger from Stan who was reclined in a bean bag chair with a book in hand; never once looking up from the pages, a soft smile on his lips arising when he took in how much consideration his friends have for him even when it came to something as simple as what they were going to eat.

“W-where is E-eddie?” Bill cut in, noticing from his own bean bag that their smallest friend wasn’t there to way in on the order. Eddie always did, sure he’d figured out the pills were a lie and it’d devastated them all, but that didn’t mean Eddie still wasn’t a constant observer of his food intake. Something the losers didn’t mind, but Bev and Bill began to notice Ben trying to replicate Eddie’s routine and worry grew.

They wouldn’t be the losers if they didn’t constantly worry about one another.

“He texted me that he was on the way about an hour ago,” Ben explained, setting down his hammer and packing up the rest of the nails, knowing they’d have a plethora of problems if someone stepped on one.

‘An hour ago?’ Richie sat up abruptly at that, a feeling of dread overcoming him. This town had never been kind, not to any of the losers, not to him, and especially not his very pretty Eddie. They’d all gotten their asses kicked before, there had also been those child murders from that killer clown guy a few summers back. A million things could have happened in an hour, in Derry a million bad things could happen in the span of two minutes, especially when you were a pretty boy in pastel with painted nails in a very bigotted town.

“He’d be here by now then,” Richie gritted out, it seemed more like a bark considering the others absolutely startled, coming to attention because even with Bill being the leader of the group, Richie would be heard whether they wanted to listen or not. 

“U-unless Bowers or someone stopped him,” It was the obvious answer, one Bill knew needed to be pointed out so they could take action in the form of them all scrambling up the ladder, scraping their limbs as they saddled up on their bikes and started back towards town.

The main road caught their attention, not actually the road itself but rather the fresh tire tracks and the phone in a familiar baby pink otterbox case, the broken light blue bike being the last thing to catch their eye from where it was nearly hidden in the grass where it’d landed. 

“Eddie,” Richie bit out, the breath leaving him as he picked up the phone, head turning to look up the long stretch of road as if he could see his friend or a car, but the road was empty, there was no Eddie in sight. 

“Oh god,” Beverly let out, bent over as her finger skimmed over the asphalt, her dainty fingers coming back black and the slightest bit of red. Blood. There wasn’t much at all, meaning the wound must have been a scratch but that didn’t make them feel any better.

“The tire tracks,” Stan finally spoke up, the worry in his tone evident; as if he’d realized something, that was enough for them to crane their necks down, memories flashed in their minds, the causation of those tracks clear.

“Patrick,” Patrick Hockstetter was the only one of Bowers crew that owned a car, he also taunted Richie and Eddie the most out of all the other losers. Him attacking Eddie while he was alone made a lot of sense, so much sense it terrified them. 

“That means Eddie must have ran off,” The losers looked to Mike at those words, turning their attention back to the road again as if Eddie would appear from thin air.

“Why wouldn’t he come back to the clubhouse then?” Ben asked timidly, Richie knew the answer immediately. Eddie may look in the mirror every morning with the impression that he was weak and fragile because that’s what he’d always been told. But Richie looked at Eddie at all times as if he were in a spotlight, Richie didn’t question Eddie’s bravery because out of all of them, Eddie was the least cowardly of all. Even coming before Bill.

Not only that, but his Eddie had so much love in his heart. So much love he’d rather get his ass beat by bullies rather than endanger them or their little safe haven by leading them back to the clubhouse.

“He didn’t want to lead them to us,” 

* * *

Eddie groaned, moving to turn back into the mattress and blankets below, inhaling only for his nose to wrinkle. This wasn’t his bed, had he slept over at ‘Chee’s? Normally when he slept over at Richie’s he’d wake up bundled in blankets and coddled in the taller boy’s arms.

Shifting to burrow in the blankets, a hiss escaped him, the soreness of his body panging throughout his being, and his temple biting. Lifting a tentative hand to his head, Eddie quickly pulled his hand away, his fingertips making the scrape worse.

Flashes of his bike, and Patrick's car-Eddie jumped up, chest heaving. The boy’s eyes bulged at the sight of Patrick in front of him, perched on a window sill with a neon green knife in hand that kept Eddie from moving any further.

“What?” Escaped the boy’s lips with a gasp, this wasn’t Richie’s room. It was Patrick’s. It was neater than Eddie expected, well at least it would be if Eddie had actually put any thought into it. The walls were covered with posters, all from bands that he either recognized from Beverly’s playlist or Richie’s T-shirts, others he could recall them saying they disliked, the rest were foregin.

The bed although made needed a little washing, the headboard was also cracked, and there was an obvious hole in the wall being partially...mostly covered by a dart board. The window had a window seat, framed by black out curtains and a pair of speakers large enough Eddie just knew they shook the house when in use.

“And the pretty boy wakes,” Patrick spoke, his attention no longer focused on the knife in hand, “I almost thought you’d stop breathing on me, but Greta had explained all your shit including that inhaler of yours is fake,”

“You could have just asked me to get in the car,” Eddie bit with courage he didn’t feel, looking down at himself Eddie grimaced at the dirt on his lemon shirt and caking his legs, it likely doing the same with the cut on his head.

“Would you have gotten in?” The question was condescending, although Eddie understood why. 

“With the threat of getting run over, yeah I would,” Eddie retorted, ankles crossing nervously, fingers twitching with the need to get clean but the hypochondriac figured he wouldn’t be allowed to anytime soon so he settled by digging his fingers into his arms.

Laughter filled the air, Patrick grinning with a smile so genuine Eddie found himself taken aback.

“I guess you’re wondering why you’re here.” 

“Most kidnap victims do,” Eddie knew he shouldn’t be talking, especially when his captor had been hurting him and his friends for years, and currently was wielding a knife but his nerves were too high for him not too.

“Cheeky, I brought you here to talk. Lately I’ve-” Patrick stopped only to sigh as if his next words weren’t quite thought out, “Had some revelations I guess you can say. Questions that I think only you can answer, and even if you can’t. You understand,” 

“Understand what?” This whole day seemed to be filled with surprises, nothing in Eddie could even begin to guess what Patrick meant by that. What did he understand that Patrick needed too as well?

“What it’s like to be attracted to guys too. And wipe that fucking shocked look of your face, I still like girls, or am at least attracted to girly shit. I don’t fucking know,” Eddie did as asked, secretly revelling in the fact that his bully for years sounded honest to god embarrased, but an inner part of him was oddly touched that Patrick had come to him even if he was annoyed by his method of asking.

“So...what questions did you have that couldn’t be asked in the car?” 

“How’d you know? What made you so okay with it you decided to start dressing all girly and shit? Why weren-aren’t you afraid? Why don’t you feel bad about it?” Patrick stood abruptly as he spoke, pacing the large room and waving his knife around while another hand was tugging at his hair. 

Eddie couldn’t help but hesitate at his answer, “I-I just knew,” a lie because he’d only figured out because his attraction to Richie, “and being gay didn’t make me decide to dress this way, I wanted to. Who I like doesn’t determine my choice of fashion, or even who I am as a person. And Patrick I was afraid, I’m still afraid, not of who I like but because the people of this town are cruel and ignorant. They can beat me but they can’t change me, they can’t change you either. People shouldn’t be ashamed for who they love, and I refuse to feel bad about something that’s not even wrong, and you being Bisexual or Pansexual or whatever you are, it’s not wrong. There’s nothing wrong with you that you should feel bad about,” he almost added ‘when it comes to your sexuality’ because Patrick really wasn’t the nicest person, but Eddie wasn’t going to push his luck when there was the possibility of getting a knife to the face.

“I knew you got fired up Kaspbrak but it's certainly something to see in person,” Patrick chuckled, but seemed relieved even as he tried to be coy, “I can’t wait to see more of it,”

“Does that mean you’re not letting me leave?” Eddie then panted out, his speech leaving his lungs tight but those words made it even worse.

“You might be too good of a listener to let go too soon,” Patrick admitted, turning his back to the pastel boy and closing the black out curtains.

* * *

“We have to tell his mom,” Stan ever the voice of reason pointed out earning groans from the other losers besides Richie who seemed appalled, not because he had to cross paths with Sonia but because he wanted all of their attention on Eddie. It would be too much of a detour to talk to Sonia, and the longer it took to find him the more danger he’d be in.

“Won’t she blame us?” Ben wondered aloud, his forehead dripping with sweat.

“We won’t see him for a month if he’s actually okay. We need to keep looking,” Richie finally cut in, urging his friends as he got back up on his bike, pocketing Eddie’s phone with the hopes he could return it soon.

“You-you keep looking Richie, we’ll tell her,” Bill cut in once he was done inspecting the tire tracks. They all were relieved at that, already knowing Mrs. Kaspbrak would not be as receptive with Richie around.

“It’s probably best I go with Richie,” Beverly cut in, fully aware she wouldn’t be received well either.

“Me too,” Mike called out, already following after Richie, they all didn’t know Sonia’s actual views but they all had a hunch she sided with the rest of the bigots in town.

* * *

The three losers watched as Sonia’s mouth opened and closed, the horror on her face making their skin crawl as she shouted “My baby!” before running to the phone, they would have laughed at the sight if the situation wasn’t so dire.

Bill stared hard at the open door as he listened to her shrill voice scream into the phone, Ben a little fearfully moving behind him while Stan remained on the grass behind them.

“You’re not going to do anything? My baby was run off the road probably by that no good son of yours and his friends and is missing-How dare, My babies friends know it was them-you hung up on me!” Sonia shouted, cluing the boy’s in on who she’d called, Bower’s father.

They weren’t surprised the bastard had hung up, Derry’s police weren’t good for anything other than sleeping through their shifts and ticketing those who didn’t actually need it just to keep up with their paychecks.

“We’re o-n our own,” 

“I have a feeling her saying we know it was them will be trouble for later,” Ben spoke up timidly as the door suddenly slammed shut.

“Bowers is going to kill us,” Stan’s voice was more resigned than they expected, but it did put them oddly at ease.

“The-the cops are going to-to be mad at us too,” Bill added unhelpfully. 

“Why did Bowers’ dad have to be the chief?” Ben bemoaned, heading back over to his bike.

“Because nothing good can ever come from Derry,” Stan pointed out, his cynicism unappreciated while the truth remained.

* * *

Eddie watched Patrick with an odd sense of fascination, even with the layer of trepidation settling in his bones there was something oddly familiar about him. Tall with slumped shoulders, dexterous fingers, long thick black hair, sharp jaw and cheekbones, and piercing blue eyes.

Besides the physical attributes, his mannerisms also made Eddie’s chest pang with something suspiciously close to fondness. His fingers twitched when he was nervous, Patrick also seemed physically incapable of sitting still. 

His shoulders shook when he was worked up while anything that could prompt the least bit of vulnerability out of him was shunned. The older boy’s words weren’t meaningful unless they really needed to be said. 

He liked to smoke weed and cigarettes, blast the most headache inducing music possible, and served as the comic relief when it came to his friends.

Patrick...he, he was a lot like Richie. 

Eddie’s gaze quickly fell back to the boy’s hands, easily and expertly twirling the blade through his fingers. The action normal as Richie used to be a little more flamboyant with his tricks when they were younger. Richie no longer cut his hands, having mastered his own switchblade after years of carving things into defenseless trees.

Speaking of carvings, Eddie had little experience in carving things on his own, his own self preservation keeping him away from too many sharp objects. All he’d ever done was carve an R into the kissing bridge, the heart around it was awfully shaky but Eddie had tried.

He’d gotten distracted by the _R + E_ just a few inches away, some small-no-large part of him hoped it’d been Richie’s work. Something for them, but he’d never had the courage to ask, hence his own carving. 

* * *

The losers came to school rather begrudgingly, bags were prominent under their eyes and dread sat within them like rocks. They hadn’t found Eddie and arriving at school not to see him waiting had chipped away at their heart strings. 

“He’s not here,” Richie bit out, a wild look in his eyes, he hadn’t slept a wink last night and it was evident, he hadn’t even changed or brushed his teeth, let alone his hair. 

“He could be running late, or he did end up getting home and his mom didn’t let him go,” Beverly suggested, hoping to alleviate the agitation skittering around Richie. 

“Someone t-text Mike, have him go-go check it out,” Bill stuttered out brightly, hoping their friend who was not bound by school was available and not too busy with work.

“Got it,” Beverly shouted, her thumbs twittering quickly, she’d always been a master at texting, she could even do it with her eyes closed. 

“Eddie never runs late,” Richie grumbled out, grabbing his things and moving to leave, uncaring if he missed class. Both Stan and Ben quickly moved to grab onto their friend but Beverly was much quicker and succeeded in catching his wrist. 

“Look,” She hissed, all of their heads turning to the group of older teens smoking by their lockers. The sight of Patrick and Belch ignited a spark in Richie that blinded him to the world around him, sending him charging forward.

“Stop,” The losers immediately called out, even if it was futile. 

“Watch-” Ben tried to call out but it was too late, Bowers who was on the way to his friends saw Richie and had attacked instantly. 

“Trashmouth, just the fairy I was looking for,” Bowers tutted, looking down at Richie who had crumpled to the floor. His worry and lack of sleep seemed to add to Richie’s recklessness because even with his new growth spurt, he’d never once actually fought Bowers back, but he did now without hesitation.

“Fuck off mullet,” The words were accomanied by a well placed kick to the shin that sent Bowers stumbling back. The school's hallway quickly went dead silent, students scattering to avoid the wrath of Henry.

“What was that? Just because you got a growth spurt, you’re finally trying to be a man. Last I checked men don’t like dick,” Richie nearly flinched at the words, the small distraction enough to put Richie at an even bigger disadvantage. 

Bowers was on Richie in a second, fist raining down on the Trashmouth whose face dripped with blood as he quickly managed to flip Bowers and get some good hits in himself. The skin on his knuckles breaking, as the fury built up in him came out all at once.

Before the fight could escalate any further a teacher’s shrill nasally voice cut through, “Break it up you two and get to class!” The teacher showed a boldness many wouldn’t usually display around Bowers, but her manicured hand came down and quite frankly pulled them apart.

“You’re dead Tozier,” Bowers shouted, stalking off with the teacher in tow. The bell rang sending the remaining spectators to class and the losers out of the front door, dragging a bloodied Richie out and onto the steps.

“At least we know it wasn’t bowers,” Stan pointed out, helping Richie take a seat on the stairs. Beverly and Ben were quick to fish out some napkins and wipes from their bags while Bill quickly pulled out an ice pack from his lunch box, Ben took it quickly, pressing it against Richie’s eye while Stan held the teen’s cracked glasses. 

“How do we know that?” 

“He didn’t brag about Eddie,” Stan answered tensely, cleaning the cracked pieces of glass before perching them on his friends head who was seething silently, body trembling in anger, his fist balled up in anger on his lap.

A chirping interrupted their attempts of medical care, the sound intrigued them but none more so than Stan who looked happy for a second only to realize the chirping wasn’t in fact a real bird but the ringer on Beverly’s phone. 

“Guys Mike says Eddie’s still not home, he would keep searching but he only managed to check because his grandpa sent him on a delivery, he still has a lot of work to do,” Beverly announced, her face pinched with worry. 

“L-let’s go back to the-the barrens,” Bill decided.

“And skip school?” Stan questioned worriedly, knowing his family would absolutely murder him if he missed out on his school work.

“Richie needs to be patched up,” Ben urged, taking over as the medic of the group in Eddie’s absence. 

“Eddie needs us to keep looking,” Richie bit, standing up and brushing Ben off who looked pained at the thought of leaving Richie’s wounds untreated, Eddie was really rubbing off on him.

“You’re no good to him hurt, Stan get to class. We know you’re parents won't let you out if they find out you skipped,” Beverly instructed, Stan obliging while Bill managed to grip a staggering Richie before he could get too far.

The losers struggled to get Richie to the Barrens, who had been eerily silent the whole trip beside the grunts of pain every now and again, the ladder is really what got the most reaction, a sharp hiss between his teeth before falling into the hammock with a groan.

“It was Patrick. He’s the one with the car and he’s been taunting Eddie for years,” Richie finally spoke, his head thunking against the support beam, blood still trickling from his nose and lip.

* * *

That morning Eddie woke up in the same unfamiliar bed, the filth from yesterday had only worsened in the night. He’d been locked in Patrick’s room, but the door was open now, and Patrick was getting changed. Embarrassed, Eddie quickly hid beneath the blanket but not before having seen an eyeful of Patrick’s naked chest.

A chuckle met the air at that, “Morning cutie,” Eddie dropped the blanket a little flustered at the nickname. 

“I feel disgusting, and your sheets are dirty,” Patrick’s laughter grew at his words as he slid his shirt the rest of the way on before heading back over to the closet, picking out a worn down T-shirt depicting a dragon and a black pair of boxers that’d serve more as shorts than anything else.

“You can shower then princess, the washer is downstairs if you're going to do laundry though,” Patrick informed, holding out the outfit to the smaller boy. Eddie’s eyes bulged in surprise, was he really going to wear his kidnappers clothes and do his laundry?

Sensing the hesitation Patrick assured not unkindly, “I promise they’re clean,” Eddie didn’t know why he believed him, but the soft tone was enough for him to take the offered clothes.

“The bathrooms down the hall, make yourself at home. I’m going to school,” Patrick was already sliding his backpack over his shoulder as Eddie tried desperately to process what was happening, especially as he stood up and found himself trailing Patrick, feeling lost.

“You’re leaving me here? What about your parent-”

“Yes I’m leaving you here, and I expect you to be here when I get back Kaspbrak. And don’t worry, they’re not even in the same country at the moment, you’ve got the place to yourself until I get back,” 

“And what’s stopping me from leaving?” Patrick’s eyes quickly went from fearful to fierce at the question but his tone remained light.

“Nothing, nothing at all,” And with that he was gone, and Eddie found himself walking back into his kidnappers room and stripping the bed of its blankets, sheets, and pillow cases. He had lots of cleaning to do.

* * *

The school day went by quickly enough, Eddie felt oddly proud of himself because he’d managed to tidy himself and the entire house up while Patrick was away. Cleaning always made him feel better, it was not only something productive but it also gave him the chance to eliminate one of his greater fears, germs.

He had a little time until Patrick would get home, especially with Patrick’s disregard for speed limits, but Eddie had time nonetheless to...pity? The house was huge yet so terribly empty, it reminded him of Richie’s place, in fact the layout was nearly the same too. More of a house than a home. Then again his own house didn’t feel like much of a home either, it was a prison if anything else. Often times he enjoyed going to Richie’s because with the spectacled boy, he could interpret the emptiness to freedom.

It was freedom a teenage boy shouldn’t have, not because they didn’t deserve to rebel or find themselves but because this freedom came without care. Richie’s parents were drunks who were never home, and apparently Patrick’s weren’t even in the country!

He wondered how long Patrick had been on his own, it’d certainly explain the lack of discipline and his less than pleasant hobbies. No seventeen year old should be so invested with knives and fire, in fact Patrick’s pyromania had seemingly always been apparent if the random burn marks around the house meant anything.

These concerns were cut off when the door opened, Patrick stepping in looking relieved to see him there waiting at the table. Where would he have gone anyway? Patrick didn’t seem to be the most stable person at times, not with his knife twirling, so Eddie didn’t bother to leave. Patrick is still the person who’d run him off the road, he’d probably do it again if he had to.

“You look good in my clothes,” The taller boy didn’t even try to be subtle as his eyes raked over his form, and Eddie couldn’t help the blush that took over his cheeks. 

“I’d prefer my own clothes, but you don’t like how I dress so I suppose this will do,” It was a lame and not really a retort but he wouldn’t be Eddie Kaspbrak if he didn’t have anything to say in retaliation.

“I never said I didn’t like how _ you  _ dress, I just wanted to know if you dressed that way because you were gay, and if I have to dress that way now that I’m bi or pan or whatever, I’m not even sure,” the huff in his voice rang in his ears as if he’d heard it a million times, Richie always huffed when he wasn’t being listened too, so maybe Eddie really had heard that huff a million times.

The words are what registered next, it seemed a little silly to him that Patrick thought he had to dress different, but he supposed some people probably had the same question. It just wasn’t something he himself had experienced but he would treat it just as importantly as Patrick did. 

The soft laugh that escaped his lips were fond and Patrick smiled along, “No, you don’t have to dress different in anyway now that you know your-something, and I like how you dress too,” Eddie hadn’t meant to admit that outloud, but it slipped out causing him to turn his head away. His peripheral caught Patrick, the colors of his shirt looking so bright Eddie was almost sure it was a Hawaiian shirt, but the second he turned back to the other boy the outfit he was wearing was the same he’d seen him put on that very morning. It must have been a trick of the light.

Patrick took a seat on the chair closest to his own, bag slamming on the table before the other boy’s stomach growled and he was on his feet again and rifling through the fridge. Eddie’s eyes trained quickly on the overflowing paperwork, worry and anxiety overtaking him as he thought back to his own school work. 

Those pestering thoughts ceased to exist when a bowl of mac ‘n cheese was set in front of him. A soft ‘thank you’ escaped his lips, but he didn’t move to eat. His overactive brain picking up on the fact that this was the box brand, did Patrick eat this way all the time? Did he know how to cook? When was the last time he’d had an actual home cooked meal?

“You know when you’re nervous you dig your nails into your arm, what’s got you so worked up?” Patrick’s voice startled him out of his thoughts, his hands instantly moving to grip the bowl and not his arms that were now marked with noticeable crescent moons.

“Nothing, I just-I miss enough school already, I just realized I’ll have even more to catch up on now that I’m here,” Eddie admitted, leaving out the bit about the food which he began to take hesitant bites out of. He could moan at the taste, he hadn’t had something so processed in forever and he couldn’t help but admit it tasted good.

“If it helps your pretty little head I can pick up your work tomorrow,” The offer was genuine, shocking too.

“You would?” 

Patrick simply nodded, scooting a little closer to the brunet and Eddie found himself moving closer too.

“She keeps you home a lot Kaspbrak,” The observation wasn’t so much of an observation as it was a prompt for him to talk. Maybe Patrick didn’t only want to be heard, but spoken too as well.

“It’s... I guess it's her way of showing she cares. I know it’s wrong, I know she’s wrong. It’s wrong she made me take all those pills, and it's wrong she lied to me for so long. She still lies to me, but she’s my mother, I don’t have anywhere else to go other than my aunts in Poland, but they’re just as bad, and I don’t plan on moving out of the country.” 

“If you know that, why don’t you stand up for yourself?” There wasn’t any judgment in the question that would offend Eddie as it usually did when someone asked, there was a genuine curiosity, as if he was actually invested in his struggle, like Richie often was, then again Richie is the only other person he’s told such things. The whole situation seemed to be very quid pro quo. 

“Because even if I do, the damage’s been done. You know what’s funny? She’s been bringing me to the doctor all my life, and do you know what she’d do if I suggest seeing a psychologist, the only doctor I’m sure I actually need? She’d brush it off, say I’m just feverish and keep me in bed with a wet towel on my forehead. I-just-sometimes...still I look at things and my head just screams at me that it's dirty, that I’m going to get sick, that I’m going to get hurt. Most days I wonder if leaving the house is even worth the outside world because why risk getting hurt just to live a normal life? I know something is wrong, and I try so hard to fight it, but then she pushes and pushes and all the fight I built up falls away and she wins, over and over again until I’m the same little boy she convinced would die of illnesses not even found in Maine,”

“You could stay,” The pyromaniac offered, quickly adding, “I know that wouldn’t fix everything, but It’d do something,” 

“That’s tempting,” Eddie admits begrudgingly, frightened with himself because he’s not on board with the idea but he’s also not turned off by it either, “But I have to go back,”

The shift in the air Eddie noticed immediately, especially with how close they were sitting. The poor hypochondriac jumped hard when Patrick’s fist slammed on the table, and Eddie did understand. Patrick like Richie, ashamed of their ‘Achilles heel’ so to speak likely felt betrayed that the person who’d he’d dumped his secrets onto was adamant in leaving so soon. Eddie wouldn’t bring up how it was Patrick that forced him here in the first place and had already implied he’d do it again. The manic look in his eyes honestly shook Eddie enough to leave him wary, who's to say Patrick wouldn’t put his knife and matches to use? 

Patrick grabbed both of their bowls, slamming them into the sink and Eddie didn’t know if he should follow as the taller boy began trekking out of the kitchen, only for him to stop in the doorway and look back.

Eddie couldn’t misinterpret the look he was given, it was the unspoken look of understanding he could only remember sharing with Richie. They both hit ‘communication with actions rather than words’ right on the head, and Eddie followed immediately, wondering what empty words he’d be told next before Patrick got back to the real ones.

Patrick took use of his newly laundered bed, moving quickly to pull Eddie with him as he reclined. The hypochondriac’s heart jumped into his throat as he was maneuvered into the other boy’s embrace. An arm under his head, wrapping back around his back as his head was settled on Patrick’s collar bone.

His instinct was to move away, but the arm wrapped around him suddenly was bearing the very knife that’d prevented him from leaving in the first place. Shutting his eyes, Eddie let out the tiniest of whimpers when the blade began to trace the lines of his face.

Patrick hummed in turn to the sound, flipping through his phone, and chuckling every now and then at the dark humored memes and videos he was coming across on Ifunny. Eddie’s body shook with the other boy’s laughter, the vibrations a thrum he knew well from movie night. The losers had them often, and more often than not Richie would be pulling him into his side where his own laughter became more of a feeling than a sound. It was easier to reminisce on that than the horrid things on the boy’s screen. Watching Superbad and Airplane with Richie sounded heavenly compared to what Eddie feared was something illegal. But he was forced to endure, luckily he could just keep his eyes closed.

Each minute Eddie sat there, inhaling the older boy’s cologne, he realized he only liked it because it was what Richie wore. 

Maybe it was that familiarity that eased the worry of the knife running over the side of his throat. In fact the lull of it was growing to be something so soothing he figured if it continued any longer he’d fall asleep.

“Patrick, why do you hurt people?” He slurred against the teen’s throat, maneuvering closer, sleep nearly overtaking him.

“Do you not like when I hurt people Eds?” Patrick leaned his head against the tired boy’s, his lips quirked in amusement, a warm feeling in his gut.

“You used to hurt me, you hurt my friends,” Eddie yawned, a concerned expression on his face Patrick felt more than saw where the smaller boy was pressed against his throat. The knife never stopped its journey across the boy’s skin, yet for once Patrick really didn’t want to make someone bleed. Especially not the lithe boy in his arms he quickly realized he had grown attached to.

“You know why now,” Patrick soothed as if it really did make up for all the injuries over the years. Seconds later the pastel boy fell into a deep sleep giving the pyromaniac the chance to press his lips to the boy’s head.

Feeling bold, Patrick replaced the featherlight touch of the blade with his fingertips, thumbing the boy’s moisturized lips, _kissable_ lips.

Patrick knew there was more than one reason he chose Eddie to confide in. It wasn’t only because Eddie was one of the only openly out kids in Derry, there was Trashmouth and that Betty Ripsom girl. Betty didn’t matter much to him, she was cute but she didn’t swing his way, and trashmouth wasn’t bad looking but he didn’t catch his eye like the beautiful pastel boy who wore flower crowns and stupidly short shorts.

Patrick chose to tell Eddie because it was his fault he’d figured out he was Bi or Pan in the first place, he still wasn’t sure, but he was sure he’d only started to really think about other boy’s after he noticed the small feminine yet feisty germaphobe. 

Patrick fucking loved that twink, he’d never let him go, and if Eddie didn’t like it, well Eddie wouldn’t get that choice. Not without some consequences.

* * *

After Richie seemed to get his breathing back under control, Mike appeared, finally off of work and also looked at his friend worriedly. The five jumped afraid as Richie suddenly shot up from the hammock, heading up the ladder and onto his bike.

“R-richie where are w-we going?” Bill stuttered out, catching up to Richie quickly on silver. Bill would cut him off if he wasn’t so sure Richie might actually just go through him and further his injuries.

“Patricks,” The answer was blunt, the determination clear especially with how fast Richie was pedalling, and how straight a line he was riding. Richie always had liked going in circles or weaving throughout them, even when the situation was dire.

“What?” Beverly shouted incredulously. 

“This is a bad idea,” Mike sighed, looking down at his pedalling feet.

“And what do you plan on doing once we get there?” Stan questioned, looking to his best friend every now and again as not to crash his precious bike.

“I’m going to scale the place and make sure he doesn’t have Eddie tied up in the basement or something,” Richie announced once they were near the gate to the bullies house. Patrick owned a bit of land, so the gate inside the property was a good acre from the house itself.

“Richie you’re already hurt, if Patrick catches you, you won’t win that fight,” Stan advised, moving to put a hand on Richie’s shoulder but thought better of it.

“Not to mention the cops are technically siding with Patrick too,” Ben pointed out. 

“Who the hell cares!” Richie shouted, stomping over to the gate, beginning to pry it open. Fearing the consequences and absolute stupidity of the plan, Mike and Bill rushed forward to pull Richie back. Shocked and a little scared when the two of them weren’t nearly enough. 

Richie was strong, stronger than he looked, especially when his mind had been made up. Stan quickly jumped in with Ben and they still weren’t sure they were doing much, rather than encouraging Richie to take a different approach by trying to climb the gate.

“Richie maybe Eddie did get away, he could be laying low. Remember a few months back when he got so overwhelmed he took the bus out of town and used his mom's card for a hotel for a few days? For all we know he could have just gotten fed up and needed to calm down,” Beverly crooned, she hated bringing up the times when Eddie had been struggling, and it didn’t make any of them feel any better that potentially Eddie could have been struggling and just up and left without letting them know. But that seemed to be a better alternative to Eddie having been kidnapped.

“He told me last time though, he would have told me so it has to be Patrick-” Richie argued, the little detail stung them because they didn’t know Eddie had told Richie the first time, but they understood their relationship was special. 

“I know right now we think the evidence leads up to Patrick because of the tire tracks, but it won’t do us any good if we’re wrong and Patrick makes your wounds even worse and then calls the cops,” Beverly added soon after, managing to guide Richie away from the gate.

The scuffle between the boy’s had reopened his scrapes, blood littering his clothes and dripping onto the road. 

“Rich, let me patch you up again. You know Eddie wouldn’t want you walking around with dirty bandages,” Ben urged, Richie shaking his head rapidly, sprinting in one last ditch effort at the gate, irrational to the point of no return because Eddie was gone and possibly inside that monsters house afraid. It didn’t matter if he got the cops called or he got hurt, he needed to make sure Eddie wasn’t in there.

Ben managed to block him first, his pointed look enough to break Richie’s pursuit. Giving in, Richie followed glumly, working through Beverly’s suggestion. It only caused another layer of anger to crash over him like a wave. 

Richie loved Eddie, loved him more than anything else in the world. They’d confided in one another since they were little, Eddie had always been there for him. They’d gone to one another when things were bad, let one another know when something had happened. 

Richie always knew when things were too much, when Eddie’s anxiety had swallowed him. When he stopped eating and sleeping, when he nearly hurt himself to relieve that ache. He had been the one who’d picked Eddie up from that hotel, and Eddie was the one who held him after his parents had come home drunk and beaten him, and Eddie was the first person he’d come out too, even before Stan. 

Hurt filled him next, hurt that Eddie could have run off and not tell him. Eddie wouldn’t do that, no Eddie wouldn’t fucking do that. He promised, they promised each other they’d tell one another if things got worse! Fear advanced then because if Eddie hadn’t run off, and Patrick didn’t do anything, that meant someone else did.

Oh god, what if someone simply passing through town kidnapped him? Eddie, his beautiful Eddie who was god damn twink material, who was stared at by adult men in ways that Richie felt the need to pull Eddie closer, some sick fucking trucker could have taken him!

Richie hadn’t even realized that horrid thought is what finally pushed the pent up sadness from his eyes, tears trickling across his cheek bones. 

“Oh god what if some stupid trucking bastard grabbed him if it wasn’t Patrick?" Richie bawled, looking desperately to his friends, only calming in the slightest when Stan put a hand on his arm, a bold move considering he was filthy.

“Richie, I know you’re scared. We all are, and you know this and I shouldn’t have to remind you that Eddie may be small but he fights back harder than most. So if some unfortunate trucker plucked him up, Eddie by now would have crashed their car and is on his way back,” it took a lot for Stan to speak highly of anyone, that didn’t mean he didn’t love them but his approach was never nearly this loud and it struck them all. It struck Richie too, he knew he was suffering Eddie’s loss but he only now took in they truly were too.

“Yeah, yeah he would,” Richie smiled wetly, already picturing his little ball of fake asthmatic rage on his way home.

On his way back to him.

* * *

A week had passed since Eddie had been taken. A week of Eddie’s mind playing tricks on him, morphing Patrick into the safest person he knew. Richie. He loved Richie, always loved him. Loved how he was kind and strong, could hold him in his arms, could be a force of nature in his own right. The more he looked at the taller boy, the more he could see the boy he’d grown to love with his stupid jokes and peircing eyes.

The losers were incomplete, rotting, turning on one another with biting retorts. Richie had gone feral, Ben silent and neglectful, Stan seemed to either hyperfocus on whatever he was thinking about or was lost in his own head, Beverly had upped her smoking intake, Mike’s smile had disappeared, and Bill had fallen into the same depression he had at the loss of his little brother.

They didn’t talk when they got to school, often times they’d crowd together even if they wanted to be a million miles apart because without one of them they were lost. 

* * *

The car’s engine roared, Eddie loving the sound when at first It’d only made him tremble in fear. The same fear that’d been present when knives ran over his skin, or actual harsh words were said.

They soon parked in front of Eddie’s house, it never was his home. The fear that’d held him once in that place, in that hold, her grasp didn’t reach him. Not with Richie here, not with him right here. 

Patrick leaned over the console, Eddie quickly moving to meet him before they were intertwined by the lips.

“You know you’re stronger than her Eds, make sure she knows that too,” Patrick encouraged, smiling down at the smaller male before tucking the dragon T-shirt into the boy’s arms. Patrick knew even if he was letting his lover go, he’d be back. It appears Eddie had fallen for him too.

Eddie held the T-shirt to his chest, grinning from ear to ear with blush covering his features. He couldn’t help but press a bold kiss to the other boy’s cheek before he got out of the car, knowing he was walking into the lion's den but he couldn’t be bothered.

“Edward Kaspbrak, where have you been?” Sonia, his horrid mother gasped from her chair. Getting up as quickly as her chubby legs allowed, rushing towards her son who only backed away. 

“Away from you! I’m sick of your bullshit gazebos and the lies. You can’t control me anymore Sonia,” They’d had the argument about the pills before and he’d meant it then but there was something different this time as well. She believed him.

Walking passed her and up to his room, Eddie quickly changed into the dragon T-shirt, it swamping him entirely. Pulling the collar up to his nose, Eddie inhaled the comforting scent, grinning from ear to ear knowing he’d see his boyfriend tomorrow.

* * *

Eddie picked out his favorite mint sweater, the shortest and darkest pair of shorts he owned, mint knee high socks and his white slip-ons. Rushing out the door, Eddie buzzed with energy as he headed to school, a skip in his step.

“Holy S-shit Eddie!” Bill shouted, earning the attention of the losers who quickly whipped around and shouted at the boy in unison. 

“Eddie!” 

“Hi!” Eddie chirped, looking happier than he ever had, and quickly accepted the group hug he was engulfed in, but he pulled away quickly, swaying happily on his feet.

“Where have you been?” Stan questioned, while Richie stared wide eyed in shock, Eddie had disappeared off the face of the earth and returned looking better than ever, happier than ever, yet he barely even looked at him.

“Oh it’s kinda hard to explain,” Eddie smiled dopily, looking rather bashful as he began to go through his bag and pull out his missing work. “We can talk later, I have to go turn my things in, seeya guys,” Eddie skipped off before Richie could even truly react, before the losers could ask why Eddie smelt like Richie’s cologne.

Seeing Eddie had stunned Richie, the sight of him had him aching to pull the boy closer. A separate hug, one for just them. And while he held him, he’d confess his undying love because he’d been terrified, restless, manic in Eddie’s absence. 

Yet Eddie hadn’t turned to hug him, hadn’t even really looked at him. When he had crossed Eddie’s eyeline, the warmth they normally held for him wasn’t there at all. He’d been invisible. It was something he apparently wasn’t alone in noticing because the losers were all looking at him now and Richie didn’t know what else to do other than go to class now that the bell was ringing.

Richie hadn’t heard a thing from any of his teachers, there’d been no need to yell at him and he had straight A’s anyway. The only thing that cut him from his haze was the lunch bell, this year he’d been unlucky enough to not have a single class with Eddie, so lunch and rally’s were the only times they crossed paths beside from passing period.

“Did anyone see where Eddie went?” Ben questioned, scanning the crowd as the losers sat together at their designated table. 

“No, I lost him on the way out of english,” Bev sighed dismayed, she’d tried so hard to follow him but Eddie had always been quick on his feet, especially when he had places to be.

“This is bullshit!” Richie groaned, standing from his seat only for Stan to pull him back down with his own soft commentary.

“It is weird,” 

“Eddie’s nev-er acted like-like that b-before,” Bill would know, he’d known Eddie the longest, not to mention Bill had always considered Eddie to be something like a little brother and that’d only gotten stronger at the loss of Georgie.

“He looked like he was on cloud nine and he didn’t even look at Richie,” Ben pointed out, love something he’d always been attuned too. So acutely aware, any stolen glance between the two have never gone unnoticed. They were in love, simple as that, but Eddie today displayed a love normally hidden beneath sharp words and arguments.

“That might not mean anything,” Richie murmured, dejected at the thought of Eddie being in love, especially with someone that wasn’t him. 

“Ye-ss it does, E-Eddie’s had a-a crush on you since f-first grade,” Bill argued, a little guilty for revealing Eddie’s secret to Richie, but he was sure if it were the other way around, Eddie would want to know before it destroyed him.

“No he didn’t, he doesn’t like me back,” Richie admitted, leading the others to fall silent, seeing their love was something in itself, but Richie admitting it was much more.

“That doesn’t explain his abandoned phone and broken bike, and you know, disappearing for a week,” Bev cut in, taking the attention off of her friend as Richie ground his teeth.

“Maybe P-patrick did attack Eddie, and h-he met someone after?” Bill suggested, not really believing that Eddie’s lifelong crush could go away so easily. But bonds were often strongly formed from trauma, it was possible.

The other’s nodded along, coming to the same conclusion even if it didn’t quite feel right.

Richie took longer to mull the possibility over, the image of some knight guy sweeping his Eddie off his feet and saving him burning his brain. It was his job to protect Eddie, not some rando who didn’t know a thing about Eddie. What could they have saved him from to sidetrack a crush that Eddie apparently had been harboring for years?

Lunch ended quickly, leaving a bad taste in their mouths as they headed back into the building. The creeping fear that Eddie had vanished again leaving them at the edge of their seats until the school day ended.

They met at their usual spot by the bike rack, eyes trained on the doorway where Eddie was sure to come out of.

“Okay, Eddie should be here any minute, we can ask him when he gets out if he’ll come to the barrens and see if we can get him to talk,” They agreed with the plan instantly, Richie the least excited with waiting agreed too, but they figured he would rather just grab the boy and make him talk.

“Mike’s on his way too, but wants to know if he should just wait at the Barrens,” Ben hummed timidly, looking to Richie who seemed to be grinding his teeth since lunch.

“We-we should see if E-eddie can come f-first,” Bill pointed out, not wanting Mike to go out of his way if they weren’t sure if they were all actually going. Not that they wouldn’t go regardless but he figured Mike wanted to see his friend.

“Richie what are you staring at-oh. Patrick,” Stan let out, glaring at Patrick who was leaning against his car and looking at the school’s steps, obviously waiting for someone. It couldn’t be the other bullies because they’d been the first to leave, Patrick had even waved them off.

“When does Patrick wait for anyone that isn’t Bowers or Belch?” Ben questioned, hoping there wasn’t a new bully to try to carve him up. 

In that moment they saw the pyromaniacs eyes light up meaning whoever he was waiting for finally made it, turning their heads they finally saw Eddie and simply assumed whoever Patrick was waiting for had come out behind him.

They were proven wrong in the most horrid way possible, Eddie didn’t come to them, he’d walked down those steps and approached Patrick with a grin on his lips that the other boy returned before they were kissing, it ending when Eddie fell back onto his feet with a laugh saying something they couldn’t hear, but if they had, they’d have heard him berate the other boy for his chapped lips before Patrick opened the car door for him, and seconds later they were gone.

A concoction of emotions filled the losers, betrayal most potent of them all, but curiosity won out as they rushed to follow the car, completely missing Richie going off in the opposite direction, tears running down his cheeks.

Richie didn’t question why his subconscious brought him to the kissing bridge, he knew why. That damn carving was why he was here, his declaration of love. His coming out. It mocked him, mocked him with its slanted letters and its lie. 

Eddie wasn’t his, that was clearly apparent now that Eddie had been kissing _Patrick_ of all people. Acting if he was on cloud nine, smitten and oh so trusting.

“Dammit dammit dammit, of course Eddie wouldn’t fucking love me back. But Patrick,  _ no _ , Eddie hated Patrick, he’s always-he couldn’t. Unless...” Richie sputtered, trying to find a reason. A reason, there had to be a reason.

Patrick had done too much for Eddie to simply forgive him, let alone fall in love with him. Patrick must have done something, something to get in Eddie’s head. Was he blackmailing him? Hurting him? Oh god, Richie thought back to all there nights in bed when Eddie vented and cried about how his anxiety had gotten worse because of his mother, and how most days Eddie feared she’d lock him away. How he’d stopped eating because it hurt his stomach or he’d been too preoccupied to even remember to get something down his throat. 

Richie knew, some days when things were bad Eddie was like a dog on its back, defenseless and compliant. That didn’t mean Eddie was weak because Richie knew Eddie was everything but that, but everyone had a breaking point, and sadly his Eds always seemed to get saddled with people who knew his leash and used it against him. 

That didn’t explain the kiss-or did it?

“Richie,” the losers called, bikes bumping against the bridges boards as they stopped in front of him, thankfully not bringing up his tears.

“We-we followed them back to-to P-Patricks place,” Bill explained, looking pained. 

“He yanked Eddie inside, I couldn’t hear what Eddie said but it clearly upset Patrick,” Beverly spoke, tone hurt but awfully blunt considering their group leader Bill seemed too upset to explain what he’d witnessed.

“Stan is everything okay?” Mike spoke up, having met up with the other losers at Patrick’s. The curly haired boy was looking to the ground, shaking his head as if trying to banish the thoughts in his head.

“S-Stan?” Bill question worriedly, looking seconds away from pulling the other boy into his arms.

“Stan?” They all tried, Beverly placing a hand on Richie’s shoulder while Bill flocked closer to Stan. 

“Did you hear what Eddie said?” Stan nodded in a quick jerking motion, leaving the others waiting with bated breath for Stan to spit it out.

“He called him Richie,” 

“It could be Stockholm Syndrome,” Ben after some tearfilled silence, making them look to him for an explanation.

“It’s when a kidnap victim begins to feel affection or sympathy for their captor,” Ben then explained to their looks of confusion.

“Th-then why did he call Patrick R-richie?” Bill stuttered out, it worse than usual now that he was panicking.

“Our brain tries to protect itself in weird ways, Eddie’s must have projected his feelings for Richie onto Patrick,” Mike supplied, the mere suggestion leaving him quaking.

“You two do have the same build now,” 

“Same hair color,” 

“They dress similar too,” Ben added as an afterthought making Richie bury his head into his hands, Bill and Stan moving comfort the bespeckled boy.

“Does Eddie think I’d hurt him?” Richie’s voice was hoarse, raw from emotion and quaking in a mix of fear and disgust. He looked as if he were seconds away from shedding his own skin, in a less than pleasant manner.

“No sweetie,” Bev murmured brokenly, tears filling her eyes. Richie was her best friend, she couldn’t bare to see him this way.

“It’s probably because he feels so safe with you, he had to project those thoughts onto Patrick so he could deal with the situation. It’s actually precisely why Eddie thought of you, because he knows you’d never hurt him,” Ben tentatively explained, honestly a little touched their love for one another was so strong.

“Not to mention since Eddie has been being...affectionate...Patricks likely reinforcing the behavior, unknowingly or not. Him being nice is probably making Eddie fall deeper into...well you know,” Mike summed up to the best of his ability without vomiting.

“Maybe Patrick developed feelings for Eddie and that’s why he got so upset Eddie said Richie’s name, he must have not known what he was putting in Eddie’s head,” Stan’s eyes were pinched shut as he spoke, his comforting hand on Richie’s shoulder falling. 

Something in Richie broke then, sending him to his feet before he was running. He was going to take Eddie away from that bastard, make sure Eddie knew he wouldn’t hurt him and beat the ever loving shit out of Patrick. Then and only then would he confess to Eddie, and he would kiss him senseless to rid his beautiful lips of Patrick’s touch.

The adrenaline took Richie over the fence and across the grass, his eyes widening behind his glasses as he saw both Eddie and Patrick heading out of the house and towards the parked car. 

“Hey what are-” Patrick began when he noticed Richie on his property only to get cut off when the other boy clocked him in the jaw. Eddie watched with wide eyes, the sight of the two of them scuffling making the boy’s head spin.

It took a lot for Eddie to actually faint, he’d only fainted twice before, once when the death of his father had been announced and again when Bower’s had chased him into the neibolt house, snapping his arm before throwing him down to the ground which had broken under his weight.

“‘Chee?” Eddie questioned under his breath, spots clouding his vision before the hypochondriac went careening to the ground, nearly hitting his head if it wasn’t for Mike. The losers sighed in relief watching as Patrick and Richie exchanged punches, tumbling on the ground, blood spattering and staining the concrete around them.

“You little shit!” Patrick growled, slipping his blade from his pocket, managing to nick the other boy’s arm, “He’s mine trashmouth, and if I have to get rid of you to prove it, so be it,” Another swing of the knife went towards Richie, thankfully missing because Patrick had gone manic, murder his only goal now.

“No he’s not!” Richie roared, blood dripping down his arm, falling down onto Patrick as he pinned the pyromaniac down, his hands closing around his throat until Patrick was passed out as well and Stan was pulling him away.

“Come on, we have to get Eddie home,” Stan murmured, careful gripping his friends arm, avoiding the cut before leading Richie to Eddie who was cradled in Mike’s arms. Richie, Eddie starved, moved to grab him but Beverly stepped in front of the limp figure, motioning to his bloodied hands with a sympathetic look. 

Taking the hint, Richie let Mike carry Eddie. He wouldn’t want Eddie to wake up to a bloody mess, he was likely frightened enough as is.

* * *

Richie curled further around Eddie on where they were sat on Bill’s couch, a weighted blanket secured around them. His wounds were all neatly dressed, the wound on his arm needing stitches which Beverly did expertly much to the discomfort of the other losers, while Eddie had a warm towel on his head.

Eddie burrowed further into his embrace knocking the towel off, his stupor seemingly coming to an end as his eyes began to flutter open, a loving recognition in his eyes, also filled with hurt and confusion.

“‘Chee?” Eddie whispered against his lips from where they were leant against each other, immediately noticing the frown on the other boy’s lips. He didn’t like when Richie was sad, and his muddled head needed answers, “I-I don’t-” Richie moved immediately to run his hands through the smaller boy’s hair. Unknowing of what to tell the boy as he looked around at his friends worried sea of faces.

Stan, the only one really able to speak without bursting into tears calmly began to explain the situation. Richie keeping up with his doting as Eddie sputtered out apologies while peppering kisses to Richie’s cheek. 

“Oh god, he was just so hurt. And it’s all fuzzy, and I don’t know what happened. I just wanted Richie, and then we were talking, he didn’t want to hurt me, I mean not always, wait that’s bad. I should be mad shouldn’t I? Why do I feel sorry for him?”

“That’s normal sweetheart,” Beverly assured, having been reading up on the syndrome while Ben patched Richie up.

“It’s okay to be confused,” Mike then added.

“But I’d suggest getting qualified help,” Stan cut in, knowing their assurances wouldn’t be enough to fix what had happened. Eddie let out a loud sob at those words, hiding under Richie’s chin.

“Oh god, Richie. I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry,” 

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s not your fault, It’ll be okay. I’m here,” Richie soothed, peppering Eddie’s curled hair with long kisses that sadly did little to help Eddie’s anxiety.

“What if it’s not? What if the therapist doesn’t work, what if-” 

“Eds,” Richie’s voice left little argument, especially as he carefully but firmly took Eddie’s face into his hands so he could look him in the eye, “I’ll be there every step of the way, everything is going to be okay, we’ll get passed this, together,” 

Sensing the need for some privacy, the other losers cleared out, leaving the two alone for a long awaited conversation. Richie swept his thumbs across Eddie’s cheeks, clearing away his tears, watching intently as Eddie brought his fingers to his lips, looking every bit as broken as Richie had felt without Eddie in his arms.

“You know I always hoped it would be you I’d have my first kiss with,” The admission came out as a mere whisper, laced in sadness as if he’s watched his dream end, and he supposed it had.

“I wanted you to be mine too,” Richie returned, again close enough for their lips to brush with each sound, more tears cascading down the both of their cheeks now. 

“It’s too bad he-” 

“That doesn’t count. He doesn’t count,” Richie insisted, not willing to let the boy blame himself for what Patrick had done.

“He doesn’t?” 

“No Eddie baby, he doesn’t,” Richie urged, pressing their lips together, erasing Patrick’s touch entirely. 

“I love you Richie,” Eddie babled in between kisses.

“I love you too,"

**Author's Note:**

> snapchat: allisonw1122  
> tumblr: webtrinsic1122  
> instagram: webtrinsic  
> twitter: webtrinsic1122


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